


Heart of a Prince

by AuraSweet13



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: But there are also events from the canon, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, I don't care that it's July, Just worked in in different ways, Matthew Singer is the same Singer from 'Zal Bin Hasaan', Nutcracker AU, So I'm writing it, This prompt gripped me and would not let go, if anyone was curious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuraSweet13/pseuds/AuraSweet13
Summary: A Shurvabi Nutcracker AU, without any ballet at all. With Samar as Clara and Levi as The Nutcracker/Prince.





	1. The Beginning

Every Eid without their parents had been strange thus far. But then, how else was it supposed to feel? How did you go on living when two of the most important people in your life were gone, taken from you?

Of course, Samar knew the answer to that.

You went on living, even when it felt like your world had ended, because you had no other choice but to do so.

She was proof enough of that.

Samar didn't care what she had to do, she would do whatever it took to keep the rest of her family safe from the monster who had killed her parents.

That was why she would be joining up with Mossad in a couple of days. She'd asked for more time with her family, so she could get what she needed together, ready herself for the drastic plunge she was about to take.

And so she could figure out how to tell them she was leaving Tehran for good, and likely never coming back.

As she sat on the settee, an old book of fairytales in her lap, her mind swam with these heavy thoughts, too heavy for anyone else. But given all that she had endured, it wasn't entirely surprising. As it turned out, she didn't need to read the words on the page, in the beautiful Farsi script. She already knew most of the tales in that book by heart. In the past, every time they had come to this house, Samar had gone for the book now in her lap, reading the tales in it, either by herself, or to Shahin, her little brother curled against her side.

She distinctly remembered one time when they were much younger, she was 13 and he was 9. Shortly after their parents' deaths, she recalled with a pang of grief. She had just tucked him into bed, and climbed up beside him, snuggling under the covers herself.

He had asked her to read a tale from the book, and she had picked it up, unable to refuse his requests even then, opening it and starting to read a story that she hadn't gotten the chance to read herself. [It was about a young farmer's son by the name of Kian, seeking to wed the princess of the land, about the twisted, evil magician O-ah-o, and their battle of wits.](https://persianfairytales.wordpress.com/2009/08/09/the-farmers-son-and-the-magician/) She read to Shahin, softly so the story didn't wake their aunt, uncle and cousins.

At the close of the tale, Shahin told her that she could tell stories like their mother. While the comment was incredibly flattering, Samar wasn't so sure she believed it. When their mother had told stories, they came to life, it was as if, when Samar closed her eyes, she could see the characters as if they were standing right in front of her, and not just on the pages of a book. She wasn't entirely sure her own words could do that.

Regardless, she thanked him, and they curled up next to each other and fell asleep.

Samar was jolted from the memory hearing the sound of Shahin's laughter from the backyard through the thin walls. She knew what he was doing out there: playing football-though she knew other places in the world called it soccer-with their cousins, 21-year-old Cyrus and 22-year-old Faraj.

She wanted more than anything to join them. And maybe, if she were a couple of year younger, she could have.

But she was a young woman now, and things like that weren't how the world worked. It was frowned upon for young women to play sports, or do anything that was seen as being 'for boys'.

Even her parents, as open as they were with letting her do everything Shahin got to, would likely not have allowed her to do so at her age now. Eighteen was too old for things like that. But that knowledge didn't stop her from wanting it.

She knew that, eventually, she would have to get married. No one would force her to do so, but in Tehran, she knew she couldn't go on living unmarried forever.

If her father were alive, he would probably be discussing the subject with her himself. But he wasn't.

Tears stung her eyes, and she squeezed them shut, closing the book. She blinked a couple of times to try and clear her vision, before opening them.

"Samar!" She heard the voice of her aunt Vashti. "Come help me with the food please!"

"Coming, _Zanamu_ Vashti!" She responded. Samar set the book beside her on the settee and stood up, heading into the kitchen.

It was Eid-e-Fetr, and they were hosting the gathering this year. As much as she wished to be out there playing with her brother and cousins, she knew she was needed in here.

As contented as she was with her life, however, she couldn't help wishing for  **more**. More freedom, more agency.

Would Mossad be able to give that to her? There was no way of knowing for sure, until she joined them, that was.

In forty eight hours, she'd find out.

 ---

Around immediate family, Samar didn't have to cover her hair. But, as she was helping Vashti with the food, she was informed that they would be having friends of the family over for Eid. This wasn't unusual, Eid celebrations could get large, especially once the prayers were done, as they were now. But, the fact that there would be people in the house and yard who weren't of her immediate family, meant that she would have to cover up.

Which was how she now found herself standing with the rest of the family members that lived in this house, a brown _hijab_ wrapped around her head and pinned to her shalwar kameez, covering her hair, greeting the people that came in.

Much to her relief, the people who entered weren't complete strangers-she had seen most of them in the marketplace from time to time. And judging from the way her aunt and uncle, and even her cousins, greeted some of them, they weren't people she had to fear or feel apprehensive about.

Still, she kept her head lowered, hands clasped in front of her. Not low enough that people couldn't see her eyes, but enough to be respectful.

And then, people she recognized from more than just the marketplace entered the house. Almost instantly, she was embraced by her other aunt, Ursiya. Ursiya's husband, Azad, clapped her on the shoulder, while their son, Mehran, beamed his megawatt smile at her.

There was a large box in Azad's hands that, naturally, had both Samar's and Shahin's full attention, though Samar was more covert about it.

She opened her mouth to ask what the box contained, but Shahin beat her to it. He was a young man now, so as a result his voice was starting to deepen. But even taking that fact into consideration, she'd done her best to make sure he still got to have a childhood after their parents were killed and as a result, the enthusiasm in his tone was unbridled "What's in there?"

Ursiya smiled in a way that was nothing short of mischievous. "Nothing much, just your  _Eidi_  gifts." She said. "Which you can open after we eat, okay?"

Samar was intrigued now, but she did her best to hide it. As they all moved further into the house to begin the feast, she found herself wondering just what they were getting for Eid this year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off the Barbie in the Nutcracker movie (please do not judge me). I put the fairytale Samar read to Shahin in the story itself, so please click the link if you want the full tale. I promise it won't bite.
> 
> Eidi gifts are similar to birthday presents, given to children on Eid. They can be money, or any other precious item.  
> And Zanamu, if the internet is to be believed is 'Wife of paternal uncle.' which I took to, obviously, mean auntie.
> 
> I know this is a strange concept. Believe me, I felt that way too. But I'm looking forward to writing this story, and I hope you guys will all enjoy reading it as much as I will writing it.


	2. The Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we finally meet Levi, the nutcracker! Next chapter is when the action really starts to pick up. I hope everyone reading this is enjoying it!
> 
> Zandâyi means 'wife of maternal uncle'.

Samar had no problems staying still. In fact, that had never been an issue for her. But she couldn't help thinking about that box, even as she listened to the chatter around her as she ate. Now, however,  _Eidi_ gifts probably shouldn't be that big of a deal to her. Was she even technically supposed to be getting them anymore?

 _Eidi_  gifts were meant for  **children** , after all, and she was definitely no longer a child.

There were people in the village (mostly men) who made that perfectly clear with the way they looked at her when she accompanied Vashti and Ursiya to the market, not that she did so often.

She had never caught them looking at her, of course; she would have to be allowed to make eye contact with them for that to be the case. But she could practically feel their eyes on her, burning into her through her clothing.

She did her best to ignore them in public. But lying in bed at night, with Shahin sleeping peacefully next to her-since their parents had died, it was nearly impossible for either of them to sleep alone-it was something she couldn't help but dwell on.

That was another thing she hoped to get away from when she joined up with Mossad. The much older men looking at her like she was an object they would give anything to possess.

She forced herself back to the present where, beside her, Shahin was going at his food like a ravenous wolf.

"Careful,Shahin." Danyal chastised softly, but Samar could see the light in his eyes. The love he had for his nephew. "You don't want to choke on your food."

Shahin's grin was sheepish as he slowed down his eating. "Yes,  _amu_."

Samar grinned at him. Or rather, at his antics. Shahin had that kind of face that few adults could resist, especially as a child. Since he wasn't quite a man, yet, he could still get away with it. But in a few more years that would no longer be the case.

Both of them were growing up fast, and their parents weren't around to see it.

Her eyes stung again. "May I be excused for a moment?" She barely managed to get out. Once Danyal had nodded, she got up and hurried down the hall in calm but quick steps. She ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. Her hands came to rest on the counter, clutching it like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Maybe it was.

A soft sob escaped her. It had been five years, and yet the loss still felt as fresh as if it had happened yesterday. She wiped her eyes, and splashed some water on her face, careful not to get her  _hijab_. After dabbing it with a towel, she opened the door and walked back out to sit down.

"Are you okay?" Shahin whispered, and her heart contracted painfully at how thoughtful he was.

She nodded, running a hand over his hair almost absently. "Thank you." She whispered.

The rest of the meal went off without a hitch, and when all the dishes were cleared away and dealt with, Ursiya stood up. "Okay, Samar, Shahin, would you like to have your Eid gifts now?"

Shahin nodded, shooting up from his seat. "Yes!" He enthused.

Samar was much calmer as she stood up, nodding along with Shahin was well. "That would be great,  _Zandâyi_ , thank you."

They followed her into the drawing room, where the big box sat. She sat on the couch the box sat in front of, and they sat on either side of her. She opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a smaller box. Samar could see, as Ursiya lifted it out, that it was filled with a bunch of little figurines painted to look like soldiers. "This is for you, Shahin." she said.

He accepted them eagerly. "Cool!" It seemed that Shahin wasn't old enough (yet at least) that he would play it off like he was too cool for them. He jumped off the couch and knelt on the floor, setting them up in various different groups.

Samar turned her attention back to Ursiya as she spoke again. "And this," She murmured, pulling out a slender box with a cover on it. "is for you, Samar." She held it out, and Samar took it.

Fingers shaking slightly in excitement, she set the box in her lap and opened it. A soft gasp escaped her lips. Inside the box, settled among a padding of what seemed like soft material, was a figurine that was bigger than Shahin's, but not huge. He was about the size of a doll. He had long black hair, and a black beard to match it, and he was very clearly made out of wood. His eyes were painted a deep brown. His outfit was painted on-a black jacket with golden shoulder pads, and an intricate pattern on the chest of the jacket. Three gold triangles on each side with red outlining. Along with that, he had red pants and black boots. A black hat to match his jacket, also with gold and red designs on the front. His arms and limbs were slightly flexible, not completely stuck at his sides.

He was the most beautiful thing Samar had ever seen. "He's beautiful." She whispered.

"He's based off the style of the Western nutcrackers." Ursiya explained. "But he isn't made for that. He's made more for decoration then actual use, I think." She looked at her niece. "Do you like him?"

Samar nodded enthusiastically. "I love him!" She reached over and hugged her. "Thank you,  _Zandâyi_!"

"Whoa, he's so cool!" She looked up from her admiration of the doll to see Shahin looking at the Nutcracker doll. "Samar, can I use him? I don't have a commander for the battle!"

She glanced down at the doll, then at Ursiya, before turning her attention back to Shahin. "As long as you're gentle with him." She said, reluctantly handing him over to Shahin. Slowly, everyone else trickled into the drawing room and made themselves comfortable. When Faraj entered, he had something in his hands.

It was the book of fairytales she had been reading earlier.

"Do you want this?" He asked, holding it out to her.

She nodded, taking it from him. "Thank you, Faraj." She said softly. It was better than seeing Shahin play with her gift, one that Ursiya had said wasn't meant for actual use. She opened the book and started to read one of the other tales in the book...only to be stopped by what sounded like cracking wood. Startled by the sound, she looked up and found Shahin holding the doll in his hands.

The doll's arm was broken.

"I'm sorry, Samar!" Shahin told her earnestly, handing her back the doll.

She shook her head. "It's okay, Shahin." It hadn't been intentional, she knew that. But still, she felt sorry for the doll. So she found herself looking around for something to bandage his arm with. She picked up the ribbon from the box he had come in, and used that to bandage his arm. "There, all better." She murmured, closing the book and setting it beside her to make more room for the doll in her lap. As she examined him to make sure nothing else had been damaged, the expression on his face seemed to change for a split second. It almost looked like he was smiling, like there was a twinkle in his eye. She blinked in surprise, and when she opened her eyes again, his face was stoic once more.

Though she maintained conversation with the people in the room, she couldn't stop thinking about the change she'd seen.

Sure, a trick of the light could explain the twinkle in his eye.

But, what about the fact that she had seen him smiling?

 

That night, she settled into the bed she had been sharing with Shahin, the nutcracker tucked against her side. Though he was probably better off, safer, in the box he had been given to her in, it felt wrong to leave him out there all by himself.

Shahn was already asleep.

Holding the doll close, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, blissfully unaware of what was going on in the main part of the house at that moment.


	3. The Middle of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange sound wakes Samar in the middle of the night.

Samar wasn't always a light sleeper. That had only started after her parents died. Afterwards, however, every unfamiliar sound woke her.

Which was why, in the middle of the night, strange sounds coming from the drawing room made her eyes open. The room was dark, but that wasn't surprising. What was, was that she couldn't feel her nutcracker. Looking down, she didn't even see his outline.

He was gone.

Samar blinked in confusion. How could an inanimate object just be gone from her arms? How had she not noticed?

The sounds were still coming from the direction of the drawing room. Carefully, so she didn't wake Shahin, she got out of the bed, barely aware of the chilly floor on her bare feet, and moved quietly toward the sounds.

Once she reached the drawing room, she stopped dead in her tracks.

She  _had_  to be dreaming.

Shahin's toy soldiers were moving on their own, fighting with a bunch of mice that were larger than they should be, but that she still completely dwarfed in size.

And at the head of them, was her nutcracker. She could see his arm still in her ribbon sling from earlier, and his other hand brandished a sword, the one from his belt. It didn't look like decoration now, though. It looked very real, and surprisingly sharp for such a tiny object.

The mouse her nutcracker was fighting with was bigger than the rest. Not in height, but in size. It looked intimidating, though that was putting it mildly. And, was that a little crown on its head? Either way, it seemed to be overpowering the Nutcracker.

There had to be something she could do, but  _what_?

"Hey!" She cried before she had time to wonder if that was a good idea. "Leave him alone!"

Both the mouse and the nutcracker turned to look at her. As she watched, the mouse's eyes narrowed, and he raised what he had been holding, pointing it at her. It looked like a staff.

"You think you're so brave, don't you?" The mouse spoke, and its voice was deep and masculine. "Let's see how brave you are when you're my size." And with those words, he pointed the staff at her. She raised her hands to block it, but that did nothing. Before she could register what was going on, the couches and the room itself were suddenly much larger than they had been, and she was eye level with the mouse, who gave her a cruel smile.

She backed up, and then the nutcracker was in front of her. "Stay behind me, I'll protect you." He told her. His voice was warm, and she found that she believed him. After all, it wasn't as if she had any fighting skills of her own, so she saw no reason not to stay behind someone who did. It soon became clear that they were not winning against the rats. "Okay, we need to climb up higher." He told her, looking at her. "You go first. I'll watch your back."

She nodded and hurried over to the couch. It took some struggling, but she managed to manoeuvre her way onto it. 

Being the size of a doll was a terrible inconvenience. 

From the top of the couch, she had a better vantage point. There were so many mice, there almost weren't enough soldiers to fight them all.

Some part of her was still convinced she was dreaming. That when she woke up, she'd be her normal size.

But another part of her wasn't so sure of that.

All she knew in this moment was that she had to help, somehow.

In a split second decision, she bent down to remove her slipper, and tossed it as hard as she could at the head of the mouse that her nutcracker was fighting. It seemed to daze him enough that the nutcracker could knock him backwards.

The mouse looked like he was out cold.

The other mice, once they saw that their leader was incapacitated, came over to pick him up, and then retreated back into the hole they had come out of, that she hadn't noticed before. She hopped down to the seat of the couch, and somewhat cautiously accepted his extended hand to get down to the floor.

"Thank you for your help." The nutcracker told her, and she felt her cheeks grow warm with the way he was looking at her. "I'm sorry that the Mouse King did this to you." As she watched, he removed the sling, to reveal that his arm was now back in perfect working order. Maybe a result of whatever had brought him to life in the first place.

"You're welcome." She responded. This was the first time that she had ever said more than the bare minimum to a man who wasn't a part of her family. But then, if he was a Nutcracker, did it really count? She wasn't sure. And she also wasn't sure how to respond to his apology. "I don't suppose you know a way to get me back to my normal size?"

He looked apologetic. "I'm afraid I don't." Then he seemed to get an idea. "But I know someone who might! Come with me, back to my home. We can find The Princess together."

She blinked. "The Princess?" She repeated. "What's she like?"

The Nutcracker looked embarrassed as he turned his face away from her. At least, she assumed he did. She couldn't really tell with his wooden features. "Oh, I've never actually met her. But, I've heard that she is incredibly powerful, even more so than the Mouse King. If anyone can get you back to your regular size, it's her." He looked back at her. "So, what do you say? Will you come back with me so we can find her?"

Well, the way Samar saw it, if she wanted to get back to her regular size, she kind of had to go with him, to find this Princess. But the fact that he was leaving the choice up to her was nothing short of flattering. That wasn't something she was at all used to.

But she could certainly  **get**  used to it. "Lead the way." She told him.

The smile he gave her stunned her. "Fantastic." He said, then turned and started in the direction of the hole.

She hoped that the Princess could not only get her back to her size, but help bring her back here when all was said and done. She didn't want to miss the window she had given Mossad, miss out on her chance to join them.

But, for now, she'd focus on the present. Swallowing, bracing herself, she followed after him into the hole in the wall.


End file.
